


A Second Chance

by TurtlePlz



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo Dies, Gen, I'll add people as they come up if I forgot anyone, You'll see if you decide to read it, but only for a little while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtlePlz/pseuds/TurtlePlz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits are amazing creatures. Resourceful, good with children, great farmers. Yet those are just things that one sees on the surface. They have the ordinary, everyday kind of magic about them. But deep below the surface they have another type of magic. One that the great lady Yavana bestowed upon them since the beginning of their time in middle earth. </p><p>You see, some Hobbits get second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Second Chance

Hobbits are amazing creatures. Resourceful, good with children, great farmers. Yet those are just things that one sees on the surface. They have the ordinary, everyday kind of magic about them. But deep below the surface they have another type of magic. One that the great lady Yavana bestowed upon them since the beginning of their time in middle earth. 

Some Hobbits get second chances.

Not all of them mind you, otherwise their population would be more out of control than it already is.

When a Hobbit passes on they are buried with a seed. The type all depends on the hobbit that it’s being buried with; their personality or even just one that they liked in life. The seed(s) are placed near the heart and then they are buried under the rich earth. Mere hours after the soil has been patted down the magic can happen. Sometimes, again if they’re lucky, a sprout will come from the earth. 

If they sprout does come up the family and friends rejoice, as the deceased has been given the gift to live again. Over the course of a week the sprout grows rapidly into the full plant. The family members never leave its side, as below the ground the hobbit that had passed is being changed, shrunk. Their bodies heal and become youthful again.

On the seventh day the fauntling body of the passed hobbit roots their way up from their earthy tomb, rejuvenated. Their memories are intact and they are met with warm smiles and tears of joy as their friends and family set to raising them again and enjoying the great gift that they were given. 

This story my friends, is how Bilbo Baggins of the Shire lived again and became Bilbo Durin Baggins of Erebor.

\-------

As Thorin Oakenshield clenched an acorn in his fist he wondered how things had gone so wrong.

The battle with the dragon was a blurr, as was a portion of the larger battle itself. Only when he felt warm blood spray on his cheek, and the cry of an innocent hobbit did he snap out of his greed driven haze. The king hadn’t been paying attention. He had been looking at the crown that had fallen from his head. Confusion was in his eyes, the man staring back at him from the reflection was wrong. Cold. 

It had only taken that moment of pause for absolute disaster to strike.

A shout. 

“THORIN.”

A cry and blood.

Oh great Mahal above there was so much blood.

His body reacted on instinct, impaling the orc near him in a fluid motion and flinging it’s corpse to the side. Almost immediately he dropped to his knees and pressed his hands hard on the gaping wound in a chest that was far too small. 

Bilbo struggled weakly, crying out in pain as his king tried to staunch the flow of blood. 

“Bilbo. Bilbo please. I’m trying to- To help. To sav- oh for the love of the gods please.”

A cold hand patted his cheek and a small smile was given.

It filled the dwarf with more rage, more crippling guilt than anything else in the world ever could have. 

That day a good man died. He died for a king. His king. His friend.

That same day a king cried. He cried for a terrible loss. The loss of an innocent soul that shouldn’t have died. Not this way. Not here. It should have happened when he was old. Old and grey and went to bed and simply didn’t wake up again. Peacefully. Not on a battlefield that stank of blood and death.

When the battle had finally been won bodies were buried in mass graves. Hundreds of lives destroyed as people cried for their loved ones. Bilbo however was treated differently. His body was cleaned, his wound stitched shut.He was given the finest clothes available to them and with heavy hearts all around was put to rest.

Thorin put the acorn in his breast pocket and gently laid his forehead on the cold one below him.

“I hope that one day we shall meet again Master Baggins. In the mean time I do hope that you will watch over us. Watch your acorn grow.”

With that he was buried in a grassy patch of land. The bits of battle had been stripped away and a small marker had been put in place. With red rimmed eyes they all vowed that there would be a monument built. Together they would all honor the smallest member of their company. The smallest one that they owed so much of their victories to.

\----

Balin heaved a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. So much had gone on in the following week he couldn’t think straight. Dain was demanding gold he had no rights to, their rations were so scarce it was a wonder that they were still able to even have one meal a day. The caravans from the Blue Mountains would be arriving soon, Princess Dis among them but it would not be soon enough. The mountain was in such a state of disrepair and it would be difficult to house them all.

Looking at the documents in front of him the snowy bearded dwarf heaved a sigh and pushed them away. He had been working himself ragged and he needed to take a moment to breathe. The sun was setting and people were settling down for the evening so he thought of doing the same for himself.

His moment was short lived however as footsteps approached his tent. Huffing the advisor spoke, “Aye, what is it that you need?” the footfalls stopped, almost as if hesitating. Balin groaned, “Come now laddie, I’m quite tired and this old man needs his rest.”

Then there was a hiccup. A sniffle. 

Confused, the dwarf rose from his chair and opened the flap to his tent only do reveal-

No one?

A huffed sob made him look down and he felt all of the blood drain from his face.

Standing there was a child. Smaller than any he had ever seen. Stark naked with big hazel eyes.

With Sandy brown curls. Pointed ears. Large feet.

“B-bilbo?” For there was no one else it could have been.

With a cry the child launched himself at the older dwarf who caught him almost automatically. The young child clutched the man for dear life as he sobbed, “W-why wasn’t anyone wai-ing foe me?” 

Snapping back to himself the dwarf clutched the fauntling to him like a life line, burying his head into the crook of the child’s neck. Only now did he realize that the Bilbo was absolutely filthy bits of twigs and leaves were stuck to his hair and he was practically caked in mud. Idly his mind thought of how dirty his tunic would be but he couldn't find it in his heart to care.

“We didn’t know." he sobbed, "We had no idea. Oh laddie I’m so sorry you had to wake up alone.”

Balin finally got his peace. For the rest of the night he simply held the hobbit and cried with him.

He didn’t question it. Didn’t ask how it came to be. 

He simply thanked all of the gods he knew of for the ability to once again find comfort in as well as be the comfort his dear friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Behold! What has been plauging my mind for weeks and oh my god if I didn't write it out I was gonna explode. Hope you all enjoy! I'll try to keep the chapters updating consistently.


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